


Somewhere to belong

by saintmichael



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, half-demon half-angel!adam, nonbinary michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintmichael/pseuds/saintmichael
Summary: Nephalem Adam is captured by the servants of the Archangel Michael in order to heal their injury.
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Kudos: 24





	Somewhere to belong

They caught him while he was running a message from one Angel camp to another. Adam didn’t even see them coming. Magical surges slammed into him from three different directions and he was out like a light.

He woke up in some kind of dungeon. Chains shackled his neck and wrists, and a little gremlin was wrapping further chains around his legs.

“Um,” he said, and the gremlin looked up, smiling to reveal wet, glistening fangs.

“Shhh!” it hissed. “Master will be here soon. Yes.”

It finished its work and scurried off. Adam looked around the dungeon. It was surprisingly clean for a Hell dungeon, but the iron bars and cages made it too low tech to be one of Heaven’s. They preferred fancy torture prisons made of light and electricity up there.

Maybe this Master or whatever was going to eat Adam. He wasn’t too worried about it, to be honest. At least it would end his shitty life of being an unwanted half-breed, forced into servitude by whichever side had captured him most recently.

He heard heavy footsteps echoing on the stone floor around the corner and tensed up, not that he could do much in his current position. He was slightly disappointed when an Angel came into view, although they were wearing a toga, not armour, and bore a warm golden aura rather than the usual blinding silvery one. Their long brown curls tumbling over bronzed skin was quite beautiful. Adam didn’t know if he had ever  _ seen  _ an Angel whose hair wasn’t shaved down to the traditional military cut before.

The Angel came and inspected him through the bars with equal curiosity. “A Nephalem,” they remarked, in a deep, dry tone that rattled Adam’s bones. “That’s not what I asked for. Well, I suppose they did their best.”

Adam flinched at the rejection. The Angel frowned and entered the cell.

“Perhaps you will do,” they said. “Can you heal?”

Before Adam could answer, they lifted up their toga to reveal a sprawling black necroplasm eating up one side of their torso, glowing purple spider-web like lines pulsing through it and ripping more flesh asunder. 

Adam swallowed in horror. Yes, Mom had taught him to heal - back in those first few happy years of his existence, hidden in her nest in Heaven before Disciplinary had torn through it, torn through  _ them  _ \- but, but, nothing like this. He looked up into the Angel’s sparkling gold eyes.

“I - I need my hands,” he said, rustling the chains weakly. 

“Oh, dear,” they said, and immediately set about undoing them. “Yes, Zach was very enthusiastic, wasn’t he? We’ve never had a prisoner before.”

“We?” Adam asked, laying a hand on the black substance. It inched away from his touch as he concentrated and sent waves of healing energy. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get rid of the necroplasm, let alone do anything about the dead flesh beneath.

“Myself and my servants,” the Angel said, sitting perfectly still as Adam worked on them.

“And - and who are you?” Adam said, distracted. The purple web was providing structural support to the necroplasm. Adam would have to take it out first. But it seemed  _ alive _ .

“Michael. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” the Angel offered.

“The Archangel?” Adam muttered. “Aren’t you meant to be leading the war effort?” He couldn’t pluck the web out, and it didn’t respond to healing energy either. He extended his claws for a third attempt.

“What war effort?” Michael asked.

“Against the demons… what is this purple stuff? How did you get this injury?”

“Ah, I put that there to stop the wound from spreading,” Michael said. “The black substance I picked up from inspecting some corpses.”

Adam closed his eyes in frustration. “I can fix the necroplasm. Can you please remove the web?”

Michael tugged on a purple thread and it quickly unravelled. They watched Adam work steadily with a nonplussed expression.

“I am not aware of any war. I slept for five thousand years, and when I woke humanity was gone. I have been trying to figure out what happened,” Michael said quietly, their cheer gone.

“What’s humanity?” The web gone, Adam was actually having some impact against the necroplasm. It shrivelled and disintegrated at his touch.

“...I see.”

The Angel said nothing more as Adam finished removing the necrotic energy from their body. Adam surveyed the decayed flesh that had been suffering underneath it with a sigh.

“We’re going to have to cut all of this out,” he told Michael reluctantly. “I only know basic healing. I can’t bring dead flesh back to life.”

“You’ve done a very good job,” Michael praised, pulling out a proper knife. Adam held his hand out for it, but the Angel began neatly carving chunks of their own flesh out instead.

Adam watched in amazement. He’d never seen someone operate on themselves with such precision before.

Michael had set up shop in an abandoned castle far from any current battlegrounds. They had awoken not far from here a few months ago, they had told Adam.

Adam sat at the side of the throne Michael preferred to lounge in, still bound in chains. The Archangel had refused to free him, saying they needed a healer on hand. The gremlins - actually resurrections of Angels - were reporting to Michael, helping them to assess the global situation, but were not truly alive and thus no longer wielders of divine power.

Still.

“You don’t need to keep this stuff on me,” Adam muttered one night. Michael looked down at him with surprise. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It was true. Adam was happier here than as a slave for the Demons or the Angels. At least no one called him names here.

“They look good on you. I will keep them,” Michael decided. They went back to looking through reports, apparently considering it a done deal.

“You know, you don’t seem to be the kind of person to take a five thousand year nap,” Adam said, annoyed. He wasn’t going to be shut down like that. 

“I’m not,” Michael said absently. “As soon as I awoke, I realised some sabotage had been done to make me miss that much time. Drugged, I suppose.”

“I thought so,” Adam said. “I mean, it’d be pretty crazy to think you’d deliberately do the world a favour by not having to deal with you for a bit.”

Michael processed this statement for a while. “Oh. You’re bullying me.”

They hooked a finger through Adam’s collar and dragged him up, attaching the ring of the collar directly to a golden bracelet around their wrist.

“Hey - what are you doing -” Adam protested, futilely trying to jerk away.

“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” Michael said with amusement.

“Oh - you’ll regret making an enemy of me,” Adam hissed.

He bit Michael’s hand. Michael booped his nose in response.


End file.
